Red Christmas
by Risen Red
Summary: They never appreciated me. Ever. But now, now is the time to make them see what they've been ignoring all these years...
1. Revelation of Lack of Appreciation

**Red Christmas  
1: **Revelation of Lack of Appreciation

* * *

There's a warm fire illuminating the room, while the radio in the corner sings a fuzzy, hard-to-hear Christmas tune. I'm hunched over a piece of paper, composing a beautifully handwritten newsletter to my friends. It's about all of them, how proud I am of the things they have done, and I as well.

"_Have… ou… s… f… a merry… litt… Chri… mas…"_

I glance at the radio, and sigh a little bit. While shutting it off, I lift a glass of wine near the paper to my mouth, and down the whole thing with a hard gulp. I'm all alone here while they're all drunk together at some party.

They've never really appreciated me, or the things I do for them. Yet and still, I stay with them no matter what they think of me. I lean over from my slouching position again to read what I've written down, ears twitching as the fire pops and crackles.

_After two long and grueling years, Tails has finally completed another amazing aerobatics machine - congratulations to him for persevering through all the trial and error!_

I laugh dryly to myself while pouring another glass of wine. The liquid spins as I gently rotate the glass in my fingers.

He would have never finished if it hadn't been for my words of encouragement. Of course, my efforts went unmentioned and unappreciated as the rabbit got the first ride.

_Sonic destroyed another one of Eggman's bases and saved the world - again._

Sonic takes all the help he gets for granted, you can tell by the look in his eyes when he flashes that dumb smirk - you know, the one before he runs off and leaves everyone choking on his dust. None of us really ever get a thank you, not even a goodbye.

_Knuckles and Rouge are expecting their first child; let's keep our fingers crossed for a healthy baby boy, just like they wanted!_

Ha. If I hadn't played matchmaker with that impossible pair, they'd be at each others' throats over that emerald still.

I do notice that she gives that shiny rock a strange look every now and then. It's probably nothing.

_Cream has recently graduated from elementary school and is now in the sixth grade – congratulations, Cream!_

I was there to tutor her in math every night. We stayed up for hours every night going over the same thing, only to have her make a speech about her mother, and her slave of a chao. Yea, congratu-fucking-lations, dumb girl.

Now I'm supposed to be writing about myself. So far, I've only got scribbles and inkblots. I don't know what to write.

I stare at the paper, as if words will magically appear, but nothing happens. After a few minutes, I tightly grip the glass and grit my teeth. I stare at the inkblots on the paper, then at the beautiful cursive above it, and draw it up into my hand. It's crumpled in the action, and I pitch it into the fireplace, which agitates the flame. It roars up as a frustrated yell erupts from my throat, and I throw the glass of wine in along with it.

For a moment, I'm seeing red, and gripping my chair like my life depends on it. Then, something inside my brain suddenly snaps.

I feel different now. I feel…

Free. Nope, not a care in the world.

Standing, I reach up for my coat on the stand aside the desk, and throw it over my shoulders. It's the same silly coat I've worn each Christmas, and the red is fading to a grayish-pink.

Not to worry though. I think I can fix that.

-

Risen, 2007


	2. Innocence, Meet My Wrath

**Red Christmas  
2: **Innocence, Meet My Wrath

* * *

My boots crush the snow beneath my feet, and as a frigid wind blows, I pull up my jacket to cover my chest. Shivering, I finally come to the only house with the lights off in the neighborhood. It's nine at night, safe to say anyone in the house is asleep. 

I know who this house belongs to, and I'm proven right when I wipe the snow and ice from the window with a red-gloved hand, and peer inside.

The rabbit and slave are home along with that mutant fox, piled up in a tangle of cream and orange fur and blue limbs, a disgustingly adorable sight. From here, I can tell they're already deep into slumber. I can already see the lop-eared rabbit dead, hear her screams, maybe even taste her blood…

But by certain standards, that would make me insane. So, I'll revel in her death without consumption.

I venture around to the front of the house, suspiciously eyeing the neighbor's houses for anyone who may spot me. Good, it looks like everyone else is busy partying. That means Christmas is still good for something.

Crunch, crunch, crunch - tap. I glance down, and realize that I'm on their concrete path to the porch. Feeling brave, I decide to stroll right down it - only to run across a patch of black ice in mid-step. My leg abruptly slips out from under me, and I land on my back pretty damn hard - with a small yelp, of course.

"Christ!" I lay there for a moment, staring up at the moonless sky - must have been cloudy - and heave a huge, calming sigh. I can't go in there all disgruntled, that means less fun.

Well, once I'm ready to, I stand up again and walk to the door, more careful in my approach this time.

Once I'm at the front door, I smirk, and bend over.

"If you come and the door's locked, there's a key under the mat," she'd always tell me in that throaty little high-pitched voice. Dumb girl, I'd be within five minutes of leaving and she'd remind me, which always set me back another five. Now I'm kind of thankful that she never shut up about it.

Pull up the doormat - it's a bit of a struggle since it's almost sealed to the ground by ice and snow, but nothing I can't overcome. Once the battle has been won, I throw the mat aside and look down at the space it occupied. As always, the rabbit has been true to her word; beneath the mat lays a single silver key, glimmering in the moonlight and just begging me to pick it up. I do so.

It obviously wants me succeed in my mission, so who am I to deny its wishes?

I almost literally peel it up from the ground and lean towards the doorknob, jiggling it before I insert the corresponding piece into the keyhole. One turn for the key, another for the doorknob; the door comes open. I'm in, and there's no turning back.

I close the door, and now starts the stealthy trek down the hallway. I stop and look back for a moment. Heh, I'm tracking snow in. Fortunately, my winter boots are mass-produced, so I've no worries of being caught.

Once I'm in the kitchen, I survey my choice of munitions.

Knives? No, too much mess and manual labor involved in stabbing.

A pot? Easy to wield, but makes too much noise.

Hmm…

I scan the kitchen for anything that interests me. Kitchen sink, plates, scouring pad.

No.

Bare countertop, Tupperware bowl, fork, skillet – skillet? Ooh, glorious day. My eyes fixate themselves on the metal piece of kitchenware, while the corners of my mouth twist up into a bizarre, crooked smile.

I leave it there, but stand in the doorway, hissing the doe's name. The snores of the mutant almost drown out my calls, but thanks to the rabbit's massive ears, she hears it just fine.

"Cream." A twitch.

"Cream, wake up!" This time, her head tilts up and she gives me one of the most zombie-like groans I've ever heard in reply.

Tails rolls over when she stands up and opens her mouth to a ridiculous proportion, and yawns. Loudly. The fox sits up a bit in confusion, and I casually stand in the doorway.

"Miles, go back to sleep, everything is fine." She coaxes him back onto his side and he's fast asleep within a few minutes. Damn, all that time wasted just to make him sleep?

Oh well. Now that that's over, it's time for me to make my move.

I motion for Cream to follow me into the kitchen and she questions not, and while I have my back turned, I struggle to turn my lips up into a grin that probably looks more like a grimace. They say smiling makes you sound happy, no matter how you really feel. It's either true, or the rabbit is even dumber than I thought, since she suspects nothing.

"So, how are your grades?"

The next thing I know, everything she says is drowned out as I reach for the skillet with slow, dexterous fingers. She stops short, and I can feel her giving me one of those looks.

"What are you doing?"

"Making good use of your brains."

Swing. The skillet makes a dull ringing sound, and she cries out as she's sent to the floor, stunned by the force of the blow. There's a massive, bleeding dent in the side of her head, and she doesn't get up. One of her eyes has popped out of the socket and is dangling freely. I don't think she's still alive, but I hit her again… just to be sure.

Who the hell am I kidding? This is a damn good way to have fun.

This time, the kitchenware hits the center of her face with another resonating sound, and I hear a satisfying crunch. Bone is crushed and mingles with flesh, and blood rains over the floor and down her face like tears. That dangling eye pops in a spectacular display of exploding red and ooze, and half of her teeth are now shattered and free from her torn up and bloody gums. Do I dare stop?

Hell no.

Another swing. This time, there's another crunch and her jaw is knocked free.

Another blow to the head. Another dangling eye.

Again.

And again.

And again.

By the time I'm done, her face is unrecognizable. I've been washed over with red, and the cabinets and walls are decorated with her young blood and bone. There are unbroken loose teeth scattered all over the place, too.

Satisfaction.

I drop the mess of a skillet on the floor, not caring about the noise I've made, and cram my fingers into an indentation on the top of the dead rabbit's head. Driven by animalistic - or could it be insane? - nature, I struggle with it but eventually the crown comes apart with a wet, cracking sound. Beautiful.

Now that youthful mass of flesh is visible to me. It's slightly battered, but it will have to do. I nonchalantly scoop it out, and toss it into the skillet. The skillet goes onto the stove. Turn on the eye – set to low, and leave.

I'll need it later.

As I walk into the living room where the others lie, I can't help but paint the walls red with my blood-coated fingers. I can see the fox trembling as I take my lean in the doorway, and stare.

I just stare.There's an appropriate twist of a grin that manifests itself within a matter of a few seconds, though.

Oh, innocent mutant boy... There's so much work to be done.

Mmm, so much.

-

Risen, 2007


	3. Intimidate and Mutilate

**Red Christmas  
3:** Intimidate and Mutilate

* * *

There's a thick, heavy silence that fills the room as I close the distance between me and the disgusting little mutant. He's in tears, shaking, and the rabbit's slave is threatening me using one-word sentences.

Annoying.

As I step closer, the chao takes off, flying at me at full speed – I swat it aside as I keep moving, not bothering to watch it careen into the wall nearby. I can hear it moaning like a sick animal as it writhes in pain on the floor, and it feels like only a second before I'm already standing over the fox.

"Why?" He squeaks, backing up on all fours. I corner him with a smile, and just revel in his panicked behavior.

"Because it's so much fun, Miles." I state in a sickly-sweet tone. I lean over and roughly pick him up by his namesakes, smearing the rabbit's blood all over his orange fur. It's actually not a bad look for him. ".. Miles."

"Miles, Miles, Miles. Always so needy, always lacking in confidence. Was it really a fear of failure that always kept you by Sonic's side?"

He doesn't fight back. He never does unless Sonic's there to support him. Ever.

Fucking wuss.

While I'm dragging the boy down the hallway by his tails, I'm silent. I can hear the little freak show crying behind me when he takes in the sight of the red speckles and stains of blood all over the walls, and I smile to myself. It feels… nice to cause others' pain and suffering. Now I understand why Eggman is always so hell-bent on taking over the world.

There's nothing like this sensation, this feeling of euphoria.

It makes everything I've started feel so right.

It's only a few moments before we're in the kitchen. The fox is in hysterics now, seeing the rabbit dead in the corner, her face bashed in and the cap of her skull still split and dangling. I pause to look at it too, and then keep walking. It's still a beautiful sight to behold.

"You always acted so independent, but when Sonic came home, you were right by his side yet again. Was it just a façade?"

There's blood all over the floor, and I don't hesitate to drag the mutant right through it, inwardly grinning as he screams about how he can't get it out of his fur.

I bet he's already said that line too many times to _him_.

Lifting the fox up again when I reach the counter, I drop him into the empty sink, and then grab the tuft of fur on his chest, pulling him up to face me. He struggles against me for a second but only succeeds in slipping on blood droplets that had found their way into the sink.

I pull him closer and tighten my grip when he whimpers, and I just grin and tilt my head.

God, it's so fun to watch this boy squirm.

"Were you really too afraid to stand on your own two feet? Or did you always stay by his side to satisfy his pedophilic desires of faggotry? Were you really his 'little bro?' Or was that just a pet name for his underage sex toy? Did you enjoy it when he touched you in places and fucked you from behind like the freakshow dog you are? Or did he screw you missionary style to prove to the world that he can take his time emptying his fucking load? You loved it, didn't you Tails? …I bet you did. _Didn't you?_"

I bring his sniveling face up to mine and the thrust him backwards, now he's sitting on the drain. Realizing what I'm about to do, he tries to scramble out of the sink in a last-ditch effort to escape, but I easily overpower him and give him a powerful blow to the jaw, leaving him stunned for a good moment.

Taking advantage of his dazed state, I stuff his tails down the drain with a sneer.

"I know you did."

Reaching up, I place my finger on the switch nearby.

"Didn't you."

The orange fox lowered his head in silence. He didn't utter a single word.

But I heard him loud and clear.

Flick.

-

Risen, 2009


End file.
